You Don't Wanna Hurt Me
by arrowheadflyby
Summary: 'Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there, I did not die'. In the long run, they'll find its easier said then done. I'm unsure if it will be continued.
1. Chapter 1

**So this idea's been bothering me...I was thinking about maybe doing a one shot with each parent dying separately, but I was unsure if it would appease my muse...So this is what came. Read and review! As always, I don't own Bones!**

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It was just like any other day. And that's what confused me most.

Well, I shouldn't say that. In reality, it wasn't like any other day. Tomorrow, mom and dad would be taking me to Colorado, snowboarding, skiing, the whole nine yards. I was excited. Ecstatic. Michael would be going too, and the mere thought of spending the whole weekend with my family and best friend just…Made my day.

Michael and I had Chemistry together. It was our favorite class. Mainly because we always got paired together and tended to know most of what our teacher taught us. Also, mini explosions? Who doesn't like that stuff?

However, we had a study hall that day, a sort of catch up day for the teacher, so we were in the back, leaning against the table and talking about our plans for the weekend. We'd had an entire day already planned out, and a couple girls from class commented on our plans occasionally. We gave them a nod, a thumbs up, anything to let them know, hey, we're cool with you, but this is our convo. Get out.

We were like this when our teacher got a call and left, telling us all to behave ourselves. We grinned, wondering who in there right mind would leave a bunch of teenagers in a chemistry lab unsupervised. However, most of our class thought nothing of it. They'd rather socialize then make explosions. They'd rather talk about yesterday then talk about tomorrow.

When the teacher comes in, it's only a couple minutes before the end of the period bell, and Michael is absently collecting his stuff, shoving his calculator into his sweatshirt, and putting a pencil behind his ear, grinning at me and winking.

"Oh, damn Mikey. Smexy beast,"

"Fuck yeah," he winked.

This would be the most fun we'd have for a long while, but we didn't know that.

When the teacher came back in, her eyes were worried, broken, afraid. She looked around and when she spotted Michael and I, ushered for the two of us to come.

We looked at each other curiously, for a moment wondering what the hell was going on, but then fallow relatively quickly. I wondered if we were in trouble, about to get screamed at for being late to school the other day, and I'm feeling my heart racing in my chest.

Michael is even more confused. While we were late the other day, he didn't see what the problem was. We were honor role students, I was the captain of the hockey team. Hell, we had it made.

Thinking, maybe, just maybe, we were getting out of school early and heading out to the mountains already, we slapped each others hands.

The teacher looked back at us and blinked, shaking her head.

So this is what it feels like to just wait, I decide, when we walk down the halls. Do dad and mom feel like this when they're waiting for case results? Did dad feel like this when he was in the war? I think about these things and think, hey, I'll just ask them later. No problemo.

When we finally get to the principles office, I think to myself, okay, what did we do? But when she just lets us in, and I see Parker there, Parker and Hodgins, Uncle Jack, I wonder, suddenly, what the hell is going on.

The school counselor was there too, sitting on the edge of her seat, looking at the two of us and then getting up quickly, offering to let us sit. Everyone was staring at me, and I looked at Michael curiously. What the hell was going on?

Parker, my big brother Parker, I saw tears in his eyes and go to him, holding him tightly. I look up at him.

"Whats wrong, Parks? What's going on?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Michael make his way to his father and stand by him. When he whispered something in his ear, the boy, my best friend, tensed and slouched. Suddenly, he was looking at me too. Tears prickled at the edge of his eyes.

"Parker? Michael? Hodgins….What's wrong?"

They were all silent again and then Uncle Jack speaks, making his way over to me and wrapping his arms around me. His voice cracked when he said the words.

"Dr. B and Booth…They were both…Discovered dead at noon,"

I froze, and then looked at him with disbelief. I laughed softly and shook my head.

"What are you talking about, man? I just talked to them this morning. Our bags are packed. Don't screw with me like that, Uncle Jack," I snorted and then started out, but Parker grabs my arm.

"Chrissy…We aren't lying,"

I looked at both of them with disbelief and then shook myself free, walking out and slamming the door.

How dare they! How dare they lie to me! Suddenly, I'm running faster and longer down the hallways, dodging the few people that were still straggling in the hallways, looking at me strangely. I don't care. How dare they lie to me! How dare they play with my emotions!

Unsure of where to go, I run outside, the cold air hitting me like a rock. Slumped down, I took refuge besides the building, put my hood over my head and snuggled my head into my arms. Mom and dad were still alive. They…Had to be. They were my parents. They were my hero's. Dear god, why would Parker and uncle Jack lie to me?

And that was the thing. I couldn't think of a good reason.

I choked back tears, but shook my head and tried to remain calm. When I heard footsteps and could see someone from the corner of my eye kneel down next to me, I squirmed away.

"Leave me alone, Michael,"

"No…Come on, Chrissy. We're going home," he says this softly, and I shook my head.

"No! I want to see mom and dad! Why would your dad and Parker lie to me?"

"They didn't, Chrissy…" he whispered, leaning into me and wrapping his arms around me, trying to coax me up.

"How the hell do they die? They didn't have a case today!"

"I don't know what happened…But we'll find out, okay? Everything'll be…"

Except that he couldn't promise that, and suddenly I felt a huge hole in my gut. I wanted to run away further, and I couldn't help but want to kick and scream. So I did.

I kicked the walls, screamed at the air, swore at the building. I kicked Michael a couple times, punched him, and he took it all, until he was whispering.

"Shh, Chrissy….We're gonna go home. Okay?"

"What home? What the hell? I'm alone now!"

"You still have me, baby…It's okay,"

But it wasn't, and that was the thing. I hated what was happening.

Uncle Jack and Parker came out, and Parker helped me up, bringing me to their vehicle. Michael offered to drive me home, but Parker seemed protective, so he shook his head.

"No…Just fallow behind us."

As soon as I fell into the seat, I felt tired, and after shutting my eyes, fell asleep. I fell into the arms of exhaustion and pain.

This would be the last time I wouldn't dream in a long time.


	2. See How Deep the Bullet Lies

**Alrighty, so I worked on this last night! Hopefully it's good. Please, read and review! I don't own Bones, as always! **

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_It's hard to hate someone once you understand them_-Lucy Christopher

When I woke up, I'm in a bed, covered with what feels like a million covers. For a moment, I think, hey, it was just a bad dream, and maybe I was sick or feverish or something, and mom just brought me to the guest room…Well, dad would do that, carry me, but they'd both be downstairs, talking about god knows what they talked about when I wasn't around. I'd get up, dad would take me to school, we would go to Colorado this weekend and it'd all be good.

I rolled over on my back, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, when I realized that this was not in fact my houses guest room. It was Angela's.

I started to sob.

It's a wretched sound, sobbing. Gulping air, pained gasps, the sounds that tear us apart. My body shakes with the effort, and I can't calm myself. I feel hysterical, and suddenly I'm shaking, sobbing, whimpering.

"Mom…Dad…Please, come back…Just.." I'm gasping, begging, crying out. It sounds like a scream to most of the house, though to my own ears it's a soft beg, a low beg. The sound of someone running upstairs greats me, and I curl further into the bed, sobbing, whimpering, hoping they won't see me, whoever they are.

I feel arms wrap around me, though the arms have little muscle, so I know it's not a male. For a moment, I almost gasp out, 'Mom, mom it's you, you're alive, you're alive!' until I hear the persons voice.

"Shh, sweetie…It's me…"

This only brings about more sobs from me, and the shaking continues. I felt as though I were suffocating, my lungs burning, and I try to think of the scientific reason all of this is happening, but I can't.

Burying my head into the arms of the woman next to me, I keep on crying, drenching her shirt, until exhaustion falls over me again and I want to fall back asleep. Instead, I relaxed in her arms and look into her eyes.

She's been crying too.

The light let in by the open door displays puffiness, red eyes. And if Angela looked like this, I don't want to know how I looked.

"It's…True, then? They're gone?"

She bit her lip and nods, before sobs erupt from her again.

I feel incapable of tears once again, and so I simply hold her closely and close my eyes, not wanting to be alone, not wanting anyone to leave me again. So lonely…So sick…I want to pass out again.

And so I do.

When I awake once more, Angela is still besides me, she too sleeping, and Parker is entering the room. He shakes me softly, and kneels besides me.

"How you feeling, kiddo? You alright?"

"I'm okay…" I lie, trying to hide my tears from him.

"No, you're not," he smiled sadly and roughs up my hair. I want to tell him, stop, no, knock it off! Only dad can do that! But then I've always been like my mother, rational, and this part of me says, no, it's okay, let him do it. He's not hurting anyone, he's showing a sign of affection. And your dad wouldn't care, he's dead.

I feel the choking sensation in my throat again, and lean into Parker, trying not to let everything break me at once.

He tugged on my arm, and motions towards Angela.

"Lets let her sleep, alright? All she's been doing since we found out is planning…I need to show you something," he offered, and I got up, slowly, before fallowing him.

Parker had his arm around my shoulder, keeping me close. I expected to see tears on his face, but when I didn't see them, I took a small amount of comfort. The sickness in my gut calmed for a moment. He walked us downstairs, out the door, and gestured for me to sit down on the step. When I looked at him, he shrugged, and sat down, taking out a cigarette and puffing on it lightly.

"That'll kill you, Parks,"

He shrugged. "Picked it up in the Army before they kicked me out for a bum knee. It feels nice," he stated, looking at me and smiling. "I'm gonna die one day. And with everything I saw and breathed in back in the war, trust me, a cigarette is the least of my problems."

He patted the ground again, and I sat down, staring at the ground. After a few moments in silence, he reached into his pockets and pulled something out. I heard a faint clinking sound, and when he pulled out dads tags, my eyes widened.

"Why do you have those?"

"Dad gave me a pair before he went back to war. That was before you were even thought of, kiddo. I have another pair, too, at home. But these worn by him in the gulf war. Little more damage," he smiled softly at me, then pulled out another set. "I know their a little more grungy, that set, but they're more…Him. Sometimes, I can feel it pulsating…Like he's saying, look, I know it sucks, but I'm still thinking of you. I'm still here,"

I stared at the ground, and when I feel him placing them around my neck, I looked up in surprise.

"You need him more than I do, Chrissy."

I fingered them lightly, and he smiled at me.

"They ain't reg, or you don't have to fallow reg, so wear them all you want. They're yours,"

"What about you?"

"I still have a set…Don't worry 'bout it, kay? I know dads with me. I've known all my life. I don't need a reminder,"

I almost back lash at him, saying, I don't need a reminder either, but I stayed silent. We sat like this while darkness set upon the day and then he got up, offering me a hand.

"You want to go get something to eat?"

"No I…I don't know what I want, Parker….I just…I want things to be back to normal…"

He looked at the house and then back at me, smiling sadly.

"I can't give you that. Sorry," he whispered. I choked back tears and nodded. When he opened the door for me, and I saw the majority of our odd little family in the living room, talking, I slunk away from them. They'd all turned towards me and Parker, as if expecting some sort of violent reaction. However, Parker held me close and kissed me on the top of my head.

I suddenly felt very overwhelmed, and looked back at Parker, begging him to take me away for a while. He looked at the group, tried a smile.

"Mind if I take pipsqueak to get some grub?" he asked, looking mainly at Uncle Jack, who shrugged. Michael started to get up, as if objecting, but Uncle Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him down.

Parker grabbed my arm, tugged me lightly back out, and when we got into the car, I simply leaned against the door.

"Nobody said it was easy," Parker said, ruffling my hair and starting the engine. The sound startled me, and I cringed slightly at the mere idea of food.

"Nobody said it would be this hard," I countered, and shook my head. "I'm really not hungry, Parker."

"Then lets go for a drive," he stated, putting the car in gear and starting off.

"Can we go to my house?" I asked suddenly, and for a moment, I saw a glisten of sadness in his eyes.

"Lets wait till someone more…Adept is with before we do that. I don't think I could do it, Christine. I'm sorry," he said, and then continued off again. Sighing, I leaned against the door again and wondered if, maybe, for just a moment, I could roll down the windows and scream.

But of course, I couldn't, and I didn't.

I felt sick again, but what was that to matter?


	3. There's a Thunder in Our Hearts

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews! Hope ya'll have fun with this one as well! Read and review if you like! As always, I don't own Bones!**

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_Mama mama can't you see?  
__What the hell you done to me?_

Suddenly I realized how life was working, and how sick, how horrid, it really was.

Angela explained to me that I'd be living with her now, her and Michael and Uncle Jack, but I didn't register it. She offered to move all of my stuff from the house, move it into the guest room and make it easier for me to adjust. I couldn't bare the thought. It hurt too much.

A different group of people were working on mom and dads remains…Victims, I try to remind myself, though its hard to think of them like that. It takes less then forty eight hours for them to figure out exactly what happened.

They were at home. Getting ready, I didn't doubt, for our trip. They'd left work to get ready for the weekend. Michael hadn't been wrong when he'd guessed that we might get picked up early, because they were getting ready to go when someone entered the house with a semi automatic shot gun, and shot them both shot in the head. Mom first, at close range, and then dad.

The murderer was being held. A bitter brother of one of many that they'd put into jail.

It wasn't hard to figure out. It had been a newbie. He'd left tracks. He'd dropped his weapon. He'd left with fingerprints on the door.

Next thing I know, a funeral being planned, and we're at the mortuary. Parker has on his service uniform, dad's casket covered with the American Flag.

Arlington National Cemetery.

Dad took me here several times, usually on memorial day. This is the cost of freedom, he'd whispered to me. All of these men and women, they died for you. They died for this country.

And now, suddenly, I found myself sitting in the front row of a funeral, dad being buried with some of moms ashes. Two stones marking their absence and existence. In many years, perhaps another person will look at these stones and think, What did this man and women do for our country? Why were they buried here?

Part of moms ashes will come home with us. She wanted to be sprinkled over a volcano. I remember her telling me this. Active volcano.

The call off for the military salute is quick, and I like the sound of it. Angela flinches, but Parker smiles, before going stoic, standing at attention and slowly lowering his hand from a salute position. I asked him to take the flag, but he shook his head.

"It's yours, Christine. Take it,"

A marine and a soldier fold the flag, and when the soldier display it to me, and say the words to me, I take it and hold back tears. Angela is sobbing, shoulders slumped. I look the man in the eyes and nod.

"Thank you," I say, and I'm unsure if he knows what I mean. Thank you, for showing them respect. Thank you for showing them the respect they deserve.

We go home, and I take off my dress cloths, scrubbing my face free of makeup and pulling dads tags lightly, letting them skim over my skin. They feel warm, comforting. They're bent slightly, warn and discolored, but I like them. They're my fathers. This is all that matters.

Angela asks me what I want for supper, and I shrug it off.

"I'm not hungry, Ange,"

"You're going to have to start eating, sweetie…I know it's hard, but you need to eat…Even something small?"

Michael comes downstairs then, and see's the two of us, before turning away. When he comes back down, Parker is smiling with a slight grin and goes over to Angela, taking her aside.

"We're going to kidnap Christine for a while, if that's cool."

She looks shocked for a moment, and then blinks it back.

"May I ask where you're going?"

"Just…Out…"

Michael looks at her and tries to smile before looking at me.

"Please?"

I glance between them, and if it'll get me out of Angela trying to bother me to eat when I couldn't, then that was fine.

She glanced at me and then sighed, waving us off.

"Just make sure she eats something! She's going to keel over!"

Michael grinned and give her the thumbs up before Parker grabbed me and picked me up, throwing me into the car before I could protest.

"What was that about?"

"We said we were kidnapping you, didn't we?" Parker jokes, putting the car in drive before Michael gets in.

"Where are we going?"

"Ice rink," Parker explains, driving away.

"Why?"

"Get your mind off of stuff. And maybe make you fatigued enough to be hungry, huh?"

I smirked at him and sighed. "We just went to a funeral, Parker. Don't you think we should be a little more serious."

"In my experience? You'll be serious most of the time, now, Christine. At least for a little while. Why not pick up some fun? Forget a little while," he stated.

I'd forgotten. Parker had lost three friends in the war, and of anyone I knew, he was probably the only guy that was going to help me out right now. Plus, he was suffering too.

"Thanks, Parker…You're a god send."

When we got to the rink, got skates, and started out, I didn't want to do much. However, with Michael and Parker both trying to get me to smile, it was hard not to have a semi good time. Sooner or later, the memory faded from my mind, and it was just the three of us hanging out.

That was, until we all saw a group of girls skating a little ways away from us.

When the spotted me and Michael, they both skated over and snorted at the two of us.

"Where were you two today, hmmm?" they asked, snorting. "Thought you had some big trip. Thought maybe you got trapped in a cabin or something. Oh, what a shame that'd be!"

Parker rolled his eyes at them, and skated closer to them.

"Hey. Leave um alone,"

"Hey, hot stuff. Why are you hanging out with these two losers?" they asked, looking between us. Getting a dark look in his eyes, he skated closer.

"Say that again, and your life will not be pleasant," he stated. I rarely saw Parker mad, and for a second, I almost cheered him on. Instead, I pulled on his jacket.

"Hey, Parker…Just let it go, okay?"

"No! No one fucks with my family, got it?" he asked them, fists clenched. For a moment, they seemed scared. However, this quickly faded and they skated away, taking off their skates and leaving. For a few moments, Parker tries to get me to start skating again, but I just bow my head.

"No I…I think I'll just go sit over there. You guys have fun,"

Michael is looking at me, and he sighs.

"Don't let um get to you, Christine…They're stupid,"

"Its not that…" I think, knowing they won't understand if I explain it. I can't explain it. I just feel…

Empty.

Sick.

Alone.

So I sit on the bleachers, taking my skates off and leaning my head into my hands. It isn't long before the boys fallow me and we get something small to eat.

"They're stupid, Christine," Michael assures me as he eats a hot dog, and holds my hand.

For the first time in a long time, however, his hold doesn't make me feel better. I pull away, walking to the car and locking myself in.

Tomorrow won't be any better. But I can pretend.


	4. So Much Hate for the Ones We Love

**Ya'll know the drill! I don't own Bones. I'm totally pumped for tonights episode. Hopefully I'll do the shot in the dark fic update soon, I just haven't been having muse for it. Read and review, my lovelies! Have a good day!**

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Every hour goes by like it'll last forever.

Every minute goes by too quickly.

And I'm trapped in the middle of it.

It's not exciting.

It's not breath taking.

It's not like the movies where I'm here and everyone is surrounding me.

No…I'm alone.

Utterly alone.

Sure, there's Angela. But she has her own things.

And Parker. But he went home for the week to keep up with school. Engineering.

And yeah, there's Michael. But what am I supposed to ask of him?

I'll tough it out.

And the entire squint squad is behind me, but all I can think of is mom and dad whenever I see them.

It stings. It stings so much. All I want to do is be that little girl again, telling my mom and dad that everything in the world was up for grabs. Telling myself the world was open. My mom and my dad? They're hero's. And no one knows.

No one but me and our family.

Mom didn't earn an award for her work or her bravery. And Dad had so many metals that he learned to hate them.

Mainly during the days, I would sleep. Sleep and dream, exhaustion becoming my one friend and worst enemy.

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"_Christine! Where the hell have you been?"_

"_Mom, I was just at practice. Chill out. You know I have practice every day now."_

"_You're never out this late!"_

"_Calm down, mom. I left a reminder this morning. Me and some friends got some fries after practice. I've done it before,"_

"_I called you three times! And don't you DARE tell me to calm down, Christine Angela Booth."_

"_Mom, I was just having some fun! Why's it so bad to have some fun?!"_

"_You're irresponsible! You should have called!"_

"_How am I irresponsible? I've done everything you've ever wanted me to do!"_

"_You're irresponsible!"_

"_Jesus, mom! Weren't you ever a teenager?"_

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And it would always end like this.

My mocking her.

Me mocking him.

Our fights playing over and over in my head, becoming one steady stream of home video, a steady stream of anger and hate. Me running out dramatically. Me telling them I hate them.

Damn it.

I would awaken in a cold sweat, crying softly. Once, Michael had come in and was handing me a box of tissues before he walked out with one glance over his shoulder.

"Call if you need anything, Chrissy,"

And that was all I needed or wanted. He was giving me space, and the instant that I wanted him, he'd be there. But I didn't need him, and I didn't want him.

Sometimes they'd be more realistic, and sometimes the dreams would come to the point where I was watching them die, or to where everyone else was there too, and nothing could change. I'd watch everyone die before I'd be killed.

But I never screamed.

No, never screamed.

I was strong.

But I wanted them to be there comforting me, Mom and Dad. I wasn't too strong to admit that, though I never told anyone about this desire. I know that Angela was trying to get something out of me, but I could never quiet tell her. It didn't seem right to let her know about what I was feeling, what I wanted. She couldn't DO anything about it, anyways.

Best to just make her think I was fine.

I was barely eating anymore, though because I didn't feel like it. Eating required more energy then I had, and though scientifically I knew that I had to eat to GAIN energy, it seemed like too much. I'd eat enough to please Angela, and then I'd watch TV with Uncle Jack and Michael, or I'd sleep.

I think because I slept so often, no one realized that I could easy get up and get ready for things that needed to happen. So when I got up at five o'clock and went on a jog, a slow one to try and gain more energy then I had, and I came back into the house to Jack sitting at the table drinking coffee, he looked shocked for a moment.

"What are you…Doing up, kiddo?"

"I went for a jog…I have school today,"

"You can skip more then a couple days. The school understands,"

"No…I need to get back…"

Jack smirks and ushers me over. When I make me way to him, he ruffs my hair up and shakes his head.

"You're just like you're mother. Did you know that?"

"She always said I was more like Dad…"

"You're like him too…But, baby, you remind me of her," he bit his lip and looks down.

"So you're not going to stop me from going to school?"

"Michaels going today…But you'll have to get through Angie…She won't be happy with you leaving just yet," he gets up and gestures at the fridge. "Make yourself something. She keeps saying you don't eat enough."

"Not hungry,"

"Like I said. Just like your mom."

I didn't understand this, but I decided not to push it forward. I was too tired.

Always too tired.

When Michael comes down, his backpack in tow, he looks over at me and holds his hand out, gesturing for an orange. I toss one at him and we start out. I don't want to deal with Angela telling me that I should stay home, rest, whatever. I don't WANT to rest.

"Oh, I have practice tonight. Can you wait for me?" I ask, looking at him carefully. He shrugs and looks over his shoulder, as though expecting his mom to come barreling out.

"Sure. I love me some girl violence," he jokes.

"Good,"

We go to school, and I just kind of drift through. I wish I could tell you more, but really, that's all there is. I hear some sympathies, a couple of guys want to look at dads tags and then tell me how sorry they are, but mainly I can tell that they just don't want to deal with me.

Same with teachers. They offer to let me skip assignments or turn them in late, it's okay, but I just smile and walk away. I'll get them done on time.

After school, we have hockey practice, and some of the girls on the team hug me, and a couple are crying. In middle school, my dad was a coach, so it isn't that much of a surprise that some people are asking about what happened. I take in their comfort and comfort them, all while dressing in gear. Our coach seems surprised that I'm back, but doesn't argue when I say I want to participate.

Michael stands guard, giving me a thumbs up every few seconds, eating donut holes.

By the time we get home, it's five thirty, and I know that both of us are in deep shit, but I feel better then I have in days, and this doesn't bother me. When we pull up, I see Angela watching out the window for us, and I look at Michael.

"We're fucked, man."

"Yeah, well…We can both deal with it," he states, then takes his keys out and walks to the front door.

I can already hear the shouting by the time I get in, and I can tell that Michaels getting it laid on him.

"…and you don't even think to tell me, or ask me, or even talk to me before driving…"

"Ange…Stop, please…It's my fault,"

She turns on me and then starts to lecture me, though her eyes are softer than they were on Michael, and I take it. Every word. Because I'm not going to tell her, it was nice to forget, I was okay today, even if it was a blur it was something more than just sitting here. It was nice not thinking of them. It was nice.

When that word, though, slips through her mouth, I can't help but tear up slightly.

"How in the hell could you have become so irresponsible? You-"

I slink then, and suddenly I'm crying, crying, because Mom, she said that too, and I know that's what she thought of me.

And Angela's just proving it.

For a moment she seems shocked, and seems to think that it's her yelling, her scolding that's causing me to act this way. Suddenly, she's embracing my, whispering to me,

"Oh, sweetie, no, no, I'm not mad, I was just worried, it's okay, honey, shh,".

She doesn't understand, and I'm trying to correct her, but my words come out in hiccups, I feel sick, I just want to whisper the words, no no that's not it, but I can't.

Michael is standing back, wide eyed, looking at both of us before he creeps away slowly, scratching his neck and slinking upstairs. Girl moment, he mouths to me, and then turns.


	5. Be Still

**So, I'm updating! As always, I don't own Bones, read and review as you please, and thanks to everyone! Hope you like this. For Booths video, I couldn't find a video or text of him saying what he says in the video, so I improvised from what I remember. Please don't be too hard on that.**

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Thats no way to live,  
All tangled up like balls of string.  
And we woke at dawn,  
And watched the sun glide over the hill.

-A light on the hill, Margot and the Nuclear So and So's

"Hey, kiddo. You want to go to the house? Pick some of your stuff up?"

Uncle Jack was perched outside of my new found room, smiling at me as though saying, hey, you can come with, but you don't have to. My body ached horribly, as did my mind, but I nodded none the less. I was tired, not unable to move. I pushed myself up as he ran downstairs, alerting Angela that I would be coming with.

I trudged downstairs, hopped into the car and leaned back. When Angela came out, she turned to face me.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Christine. It's okay,"

"I want to," I replied, trying to stop my heart from beating so loudly in my chest, trying to stop my nervousness from coming onto me. Trying to force logic into this situation when there was none.

Michael was at work, unable to help us start clearing stuff out. So instead Uncle Jack drove us all the way and got us into the house. I couldn't help but notice the constant looks between the two of them and back to me.

"I'm fine, guys. Really. I'm fine," I lied.

Walking into the house, I kept my eyes from off the floor. Ironically, it wasn't much different then it had been. As Uncle Jack and Angela started to look around, poke around, see what they could do with everything, I made my way upstairs.

Mom didn't believe in feelings. She didn't believe in intuitive jumps. She didn't believe in the supernatural.

But dad did. And something, I don't know what, pulled me up to their room.

I had been in this room countless times. It wasn't odd, not really. The millions of times mom and I had made up for fights had been in here, the millions of times dad had told me about his life before this. The millions of times I'd rolled my eyes.

_You were cherished_

I hear the sound and I spin around, looking for the voice. When I decided it was a moment of exhaustion and confusion, probably just a moment of pure delirium, I start for their closet.

I don't know why. I don't really do why.

When I find the box on top of their shelf and pull it down, it isn't because I know something's there. I just…I feel like it's important. It's a bigger box, labeled Christine. Not that that means much. Hundreds of boxes are labeled the same thing around the house, I'm sure.

Christmas decorations, I wonder. Or perhaps photo albums?

I was half right. In it, I see photo album upon photo album, a couple of pictures. A locket. But at the bottom, I see two things that catch my eye.

Two DVD cases.

Taking them out, I stare for a moment. One's labeled with moms name and one with dads, and I wonder whether or not to watch them. I open one of the cases, and a piece of paper falls out.

_Christine. Don't watch these until I'm passed. Love, Mom._

It was a simple note, but it choked me for more than a moment. I stared at her scrawl, her lovely, neat scrawl, so different from dad's and mine. It was more perfected then either of ours.

The other DVD case held a similar note, only from Dad, much messier and on a sticky note instead of lined paper. I'm holding them, wondering what to do with them. I stare ahead and when I see the TV, I close the door, pop open dad's and place it in the DVD player.

_Hey, Christine...It's me you're father…Dad, dada, daddy…If you're watching this, then I'm…Dead…_

The moment it takes for me to understand this makes my heart ache painfully. For a moment, I take in a deep breath and try to calm myself. His voice…It's…Unmistakable. He isn't sad.

_If I was a good father to you, you're sad right now…If we had some sort of fight, let's just forget it, okay?_

For a moment again, I feel broken. Because my dreams have been riddled with these fights, the constant question ,does he hate me? I deserve to be hated. I deserve to be hated. I deserve to be hated.

It's hurts to be hated.

_I am the luckiest man in the world, because I got to spend time with your mother…And with you…_

He was proud to have served in the military.

He loved Canadian beer.

He loved hockey.

I laughed at these things. Because I knew them, and I knew him. And it hurt, but at the same time it was so him, so dad, I couldn't help but laugh.

He was such a sap.

_I want you to love life…Dive into life…One last thing…Help your mom to be happy…Because if she's alone, she's going to forget._

I took in a sharp intake of breath and closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling down my face. What about me? What if I forget? Dad…

"I need you, dad…I miss you,"

_I love you. From me, to you_

And he held his hand out to the camera, his own way of kissing me, and I hurt.

I'd seen Mom in the background, watching him. And for a while, I'd thought it was meant to be like that. When I saw the tears on her own face, I felt for a moment at peace. I choked back and continued watching. When she ran and hugged him, I felt my body slump.

She loved him.

She loves him.

Damn it, it hurts.

_Now I'm going to have to edit it out._

_I'm sorry_

Mom's voice is softer, apologetic, before they shut the camera off.

I'm happy you didn't edit that out, daddy…

So happy.

They used to be young. It was strange seeming them like that. I felt a pang inside when I realized that that was what they looked like when I was a baby.

And the words made me feel hallow.

I hear Angela calling for me, and I take the tape out, put the box up, and wipe my tears. The two DVD's are hidden in my sweatshirt pocket, and as I walk downstairs, both Angela and Uncle Jack look at me.

"Did you find anything special, Chrissy?" she asks me.

"Yeah…Yeah, I found just what I needed to find."

I'll look at moms tomorrow.

Maybe tonight I won't dream as badly.

When we walk outside, I look to the sky, and for a moment tear up.

"Thanks, daddy," I whispered.


	6. Momma momma can't you see?

**Here it is! Sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoy, as always, I don't own Bones!**

Christine had to hope that no one would be home right then and there. Angela and Uncle Jack were both at work, Michael had dropped her off and then went to work himself, and now she was totally alone in the house.

Being home alone had always comforted her in an odd way. It was independence in its weakest form, but at the same time it was a chance to chill, to be calm, to make sure no one could screw with her. Back in Middle School it had been all she could do to not beg her parents to get out of the house. She used to offer to pay for a dinner for them just to get some time alone.

Now, however, the silence was deafening. It was simply a reminder that she'd have to watch her mothers tape.

There was only one DVD player in the house, and that was in the living room, so while she wasn't thrilled by the fact that she was in the open, at least she was home alone.

Taking the DVD out, she placed it in and sat back, not unlike her mom had many years ago to watch her own mother. Her dark locks fell into her eyes as she watched the picture.

She saw her mom on a couch, their couch, covered up by a blanket. It was dads, she recognized instantly. Dad's mom had made it for him while he'd still been in the army. It was a nice blanket, but Grandma had never been good at quilting, so it was off quilter.

_Booth _

She heard her moms complaint. In the backround, she heard her father fidgeting around and reply.

_Look Bones, you can wait to do this if you want. You're still…_

He trailed off and she saw her mom roll her eyes.

_Go, Booth. Or at least hide._

He hesitated but then she saw him bend down and kiss Brennan, before walking away. She guessed that he wasn't far away, watching from the distance much like her mom had been.

_Hello, Christine…It's your mom. And…Well, I'm not good at this sort of thing. But I don't really believe in an afterlife so…I suppose…I should tell you what I want to tell you here. Because I know I had a lot of questions when I was growing up._

_My name is Temperance Joy Brennan. You are Christine Angela Booth…You were named after Christine Brennan, my mom…Who I happened to learn a lot about this last week…And your middle name is the name of my best friend, your god mother, Angela…I'm hoping that your old when you get this, but if you aren't, and I died younger then I wished too, then I suppose theres a chance that you won't know all of this…_

_I'm a forensic anthropologist. And whether you know it or not, I love my job. But I'm finding that I love you and your father a lot more then I love this job. Of course, theres a scientific reasoning behind this, but I just…I do love you._

_I know teenagers and growing adolescent often argue with parents…And I'm hoping that you and I didn't. But if we did, then I want you to know that the instant you left the room, I forgave you. And I never stopped loving you._

_I may have done things in my life which you do not approve of…And I'm trying to be a good person, but if I don't fit your mold, I'm so sorry baby…I know what it feels like to think you're a disappointment, or to be disappointed in your family. But you aren't a disappointment, don't ever thing that._

_I would hope that Angela and Hodgins will take you in if you're younger…Or help you through this if your older…But if you are younger and end up like I did, in the system, then I want you to remember this-Keep your head down. That's the best advice I can give you. And never forget that I love you._

_I hope that you never have to go through the system, but realistically, I must think that its possible._

_You're getting older. And if you're a teenager, I want you to remember to think with your head…But don't forget to think like your father too, with your gut…Because I've found that sometimes it isn't totally illogical to believe in that as well._

_While I don't believe in the afterlife, I do believe that I live on through you. So never forget that I will never, ever stop loving you. I never heard that enough growing up. And I need you to know. I may seem cold or detached, but I tried my best for you. _

_Find someone to hold on to. And when you find them, keep holding on. _

_Keep your head up, Christine…Because I do love you, and I want you to thrive. You're dads in the corner over there, watching over me like a hawk, and you…Well, you're asleep. Just remember that people care about you, and they love you. You were and are cherished. _

_I promise you._

The words ended abruptly, not like dads, but I felt my heart ache at her words.

I was crying.

Sobbing.

I hadn't heard the door open, and so the feeling of someone next to me shocked me.

"Hey, Christine…You're okay," the male voice reassured me. "Dr. Brennan never was too much of a sap,"

"Uncle Jack…"

"Hey, it's okay…I promise," he stated, and I started to sob into his shoulder. He rubbed my back soothingly and I could hear another person enter. I was unsure if he shooed them off or if they just walked away, but I knew that I was suddenly alone with Uncle Jack again.

"Wh-Why did she tape that then? Did she think she was going to die or something?"

"She'd just got shot. I remember Booth talking about that video…She wasn't allowed to go to work for a couple of weeks, Booth was all protective…It was rather comical, really," Uncle Jack smiles at me and my eyes fill with tears again.

We sit there, my sobbing mixed with Jacks own tears.

"Jack…Did people like mom?"

"I liked your mom…Ange liked your mom. A lot of people liked your mom,"

"But…Why? I heard the way some of the people at the Jeffersonian talked about her…She wasn't like that at all with me, but…I don't understand sometimes…"

"We didn't give up on her. Just like we aren't giving up on you. Your mom cared too much about everything. She saw a face to every skull. Not one death didn't effect her. She never became desensitized, not once. Angela used to say that there was such deep pain in her eyes, she couldn't see to the person underneath."

"What was she like before?"

"She paid attention to her work. She was brilliant. But don't ever let anyone tell you that she was anything near cold. Me and your mom almost died together, kiddo. I saw what pain looked like in her eyes,"

Christine was silent as she leaned into Jack. They pulled away and looked into each others eyes.

"Do you think, if Heaven is real, that she's with dad?"

"Christine…You're mom was the grandest women I ever met, apart from Angela. If any women deserved to go to Heaven, it was your mom," he said, smiling and ruffling her hair.

The silence hurt her, but she allowed it anyways. It penetrated her soul, made her hurt.

"You going to be okay, Christine?"

The silence was long and drawn out. However, she shook her head and leaned back.

"No…I don't think so. But I'll live,"

He stretched the silence longer and nodded.

"Booths always do."


	7. Booths always do

**Thanks for the reviews thus far! And also, thanks for the advice from 'Guest'. Helpful in many aspects xD Thanks for everyone, including those who just are reading for fun, in fact. As always, I don't own Bones, read and review if you like, and enjoy! Also, this chapter is a little more dramatic and slightly more graphic, so be warned.**

* * *

The full impact of his words took a moment to sink in as I shook him off, getting up quickly and walking away.

_Booths always do_

Except, Dad hadn't. And technically, Mom was a Booth too. And she hadn't lived.

God damn it! Why did it _hurt_ so damned bad!

It shouldn't hurt this much. No, logically there was absolutely no reason for it to hurt this much. People died. I'd known this for the majority of my life. I'd prepared myself for my mother or father's death.

_Help your mom…Be happy_

_Cuz if she's alone…She's going to forget._

Who's going to remind me, Dad? Damn it!

I walked outside quickly and bent down, slamming my hand into the cement. The sting felt oddly comforting, but not enough. I was knelt down on the ground, slamming my hand into the ground again and again, and when that hurt too much I was throwing my arms into the ground.

I was crying. Crying, sobbing. My hands felt raw and painful, sticky, and when I brought them to my eyes I saw blood.

I didn't give a fuck.

I wanted to feel pain.

Damn it, physical pain.

Uncle Jack hadn't come to check on me yet, and I assumed that he either hadn't realized the direct impact of his words or he had decided to give me space. Either way, it didn't matter. My arms felt totally apart from my body now, though they were very much attached, and I was finding that my hand wouldn't bend to the form of a fist anymore.

When I finally decided to get up, to go in and clean up, exhaustion hitting in, I started to stand. However, the sudden feeling of perspiration on my back and neck and the blackness that invaded my vision warned me that this may not be a good idea.

Before I could react or go down, my knees gave out and I feel to the cold ground.

**Change of POV Jack**

When she suddenly got up and left, I understood my mistake. However, I realized just as quickly that there was no way to fix it.

Booth wasn't alive. God damn it, how could I be so stupid?

Brennan would be pointing out that grief can make us do stupid things, that there was some biological reason for it, but I felt myself crumple and lay my head into my lap, shaking.

_I hurt too_

I wanted to say, I wanted to scream. Why was it fair that I should be expected to be perfect?

I hear the front door slam and barely keep myself from running to my goddaughter. However, I can't. I already screwed things up enough.

She was probably just going for a run anyways.

Opening my eyes, I slowly got up and made my way upstairs, where I knew Angela would likely be sitting on her bed, waiting for me or Christine to come up, depending on how the conversation had gone. Angela was sitting on the bed, just as I'd guessed, and she was staring at me as though asking, 'How'd it go?'

"I seriously fucked this one up, Ange…"

She sighed and patted the spot next to her, and I made my way to her, letting her lean her head into my shoulder.

"I don't know what I should have said, but it really wasn't that."

"What'd you say?"

"'Booths always live,'. Do you realize how stupid that was of me to say? It was a dumb thing but it was something that we used to-"

"Yeah, I know Jack. You used to tell that to Bren whenever she was hurting,"

"I forgot…For a moment, I just…I forgot…"

"No one expects you to be perfect, Jack…"

We stayed silent for a long time, holding each other, unaware of what was happening outside.

"Where did she go?"

"She ran out…" I replied, and sighed. "I should have fallowed her."

"She's a teenager, Jack…She just needs space,"

If Michael hadn't come home right then, I'm unsure what might have happened. The temperature gage outside on that day read thirty degrees. She might have frozen to death if he hadn't come home early.

The panicked voice of our son made us awaken from our moment.

"Mom! Dad! Get down here! Call 911!" the order was short, curt, and we heard him come inside and dart around. I looked up suddenly and Angela darted straight, going downstairs and already calling,

"What's wrong, Michael?"

"Christine! Something's off," he replied.

I went downstairs quickly to see my son, covered in blood, wrapping up a shivering, bloody Christine in blankets, and at the same time trying to get her to focus enough.

"Here, wrap these around your arms, Chrissy. No, no, just listen, kay. Just listen to my voice. Stay awake, mmkay?"

Blood seemed to be flowing from her head as well, and the dizzy look as well as the closing of her eyes made Michael panic even more. Angela was calling 911, giving the house location and then making her way to the couch.

"Christine? Sweetie, what happened? Hey, hey pay attention to me okay? Listen to what I'm asking, and reply if you can, keep your eyes open."

"Dad!" Michael called, waving my over frantically. In the spur of the moment, I'd simply been standing in shock, before kneeling down and keeping the towel to her head.

"He-ey Christine. Come on, wake up," she moaned in response, which at least meant she was responding, but had yet to stop shivering and refused to open her eyes.

"Christine! Wake up, RIGHT NOW!" Michael yelped at her. This made her open her eyes. Her wrapped arms made their way to Michaels face as she tried to shush him, bringing them up and down.

"Mm 'ired…"

"Yeah, well, you can sleep later…" Michael growled.

"Hurts…"

Now her blood was on me, but I had to remind myself that head wounds often looked much worse than they actually were. Though her arms looked beat up…What the hell?

"Was she hit by a car or something?"

"No, dad…She was laying on the sidewalk…Why was she outside without a coat?" he asked, and the other question hung in the air, _what the hell was she even doing outside?_

I bit his lip and shook my head.

"Damn it, my fault, fuck, my fault…"

Angela looked up and shook her head before returning her attention back to her god daughter, who was now trying to shut her eyes again. Michael was slapping her lightly on the face, but even this didn't seem to faze her.

When finally the paramedics came and informed them that only one person could come with, Angela went along and Michael and I were left standing there.

"Lets fallow, dad," Michael said, and started along. Neither noticed that they were still covered in blood.

Michael went upstairs and grabbed a stuffed dolphin, before grabbing the keys and starting the car.

I climbed in slowly and looked out the window, fazed for more then a moment.

_My fault my fault damn it its my fault_

"Dad…She'll be fine,"

_Booths always are_

But he wasn't so sure this time.


	8. That's So Much Better Than Dead

**So here's another chapter! As always, I don't own Bones, reviews are appreciated, thanks everyone, love ya'll!**

* * *

_It's gonna take a lot to drag me away_

_There's nothing a million men or more could ever do_

_I bless the rains down in Africa_

_Gonna take some time to do the things we never had._

_-Africa, Toto_.

* * *

"What the hell happened?"

"I don't know, dad. Mom doesn't know either. Christine won't…Talk…" Michael replied, and paced outside. They'd managed to wake Christine up, to warm her body up (Severe hypothermia, what the fuck, how the hell is she still-), and were currently waiting to get the x-rays back for her arms and head. Michael could tell them that both arms were broken-he saw bits of bone poking out.

"What do they THINK happened, Michael?"

"If you were in their shoes, what would you think, dad?" Michael asked and slouched into his chair, covering his head with his arms. Jack had gone through this scenario a million times in his head, but still it didn't make sense, so he couldn't believe it.

Christine couldn't have done that on purpose. That wasn't Christine.

How many times, Jack wondered, how many times have they asked her and she hasn't responded? Probably just hypothermia, though, he had to think. Yeah, Hypothermia causes delayed thinking. It's probably just because of that.

"She thought I was aunt Temperance when I found her," Michael said suddenly, eyes filling with tears. "I found her and I woke her up and she was just staring at me. She smiled and said, 'Hey, mom….Can I go home now? I've been a good girl,'. And I was scared, dad. You don't think…She didn't try to-"

"Christine wouldn't do that, Michael," Jack replied curtly, and at the hurt expression on his sons face, quickly amended. "Look, I'm sorry I'm just…"

"No, no dad…I get it," Michael replied, before pacing back and forth once more and going back to Christine's room in the ER. Angela was sitting by Christine, stroking her hand, humming softly to her. Michael looked between them and then went to kneel by his mom.

"They're going to kick you out if they see you here, Michael," Angela warned, though she doesn't do anything about it. Michael shrugged and intertwined one hand with his mothers and then put his other hand on Christine's and Angela's. For a moment he let go of his moms hand and covered the grouping on Christines bed before bringing his hand back to his mothers reach. She looked at him for a moment and then sighed.

"If you hadn't found her…"

"I found her. That's all that matters. You think it hurts when hold her hand like this?"

"She hasn't complained, and I suppose she's so full of meds…"

"He-ey, Chrissy," Michael tried, smiling at her. A flicker of recognition came into her eyes, but it was gone immediately as she closed them.

"She hasn't said a word?"

"Not one…"

They stayed in silence for a long time.

"How's your dad?"

"He's…Holding up. I think he feels guilty, mom. Why?"

She took a long moment, hesitated and then closed her eyes before forcing them open and looking back at Michael.

"He and Christine had a…I'm not sure what to call it. Misunderstanding," Michael nodded, though he didn't understand, and pulled his attention back to Christine.

"Should I tell him to come in?"

"Let him come on his own, Michael…Things like this, they take time." She replied. Michael got out his hand and then brought over a chair before sitting next to his mom and leaning into her, closing his eyes.

"I love you, mom…" he whispered, feeling tears prickle at his vision. Angela looked over at him in surprise and smiled.

"I love you too, Michael…What's this about?"

"I don't…I don't want you or dad to die not knowing that I love you…Or for me to die without you guys knowing that I love you,"

The reply brought tears to Angela's eyes as she brought him close and held him tightly. When they finally pulled apart, she looked into Michaels eyes.

"I will never forget that you love me. And you're father won't either. Never, ever," she replied, and brushed hair out of his eyes. Michael's gaze turned back to Christine, who's breathing had become steady again and who had obviously fallen asleep.

"If she tried to kill herself, I'll kill her, mom. She doesn't have a right-"

"She didn't, Michael."

"How could you possibly know that, Mom?"

"Because, Michael. She's my best friends daughter. And she's my god daughter. And I've known her my entire life. She doesn't give up. Hell would break lose before she gave up,"

"It sure feels lilke hell right now, mom,"

"Well, it isn't," she looked out the window and got up. "I'm going to check on your dad, Michael."

Michael nodded and kept looking at Christine. After a while, she seemed to wake up, rather fearfully, and looked around as though waiting for an attack.

"Well, well. Wake up, sleepy head."

"Michael?" she asked, and then realizing what happened, her face fell.

"Yeah. They aren't gonna let you out of her until you tell them that you didn't try to kill yourself, Chrissy,"

"And they ain't gonna let me out anyways. I'm going to need surgery on my hands," she replied blankly, before closing her eyes again. Before she totally blocked him out again, he shook his head.

"Why'd you do that to yourself, Chrissy?"

It took her a moment to register the question before she looked at him and her eyes lost their luster.

"I'm sad, Michael. I'm sad and angry."

"That's so much better then dead," he replied as he looked at her. She stared for a moment, then shook her head. She could have sworn she'd dreamt of someone saying that earlier, but she tried to ignore it.

"Yeah, well…I wouldn't have minded," she replied, before falling asleep again. When Jack and Angela came in and looked at the two, Angela stared at him.

"She talk to you at all?"

Michael stayed silent for a long time and then shook his head.

"Naw, you know Chrissy. Stubborn as always," he replied.

Later at night, after Christine had been transferred to another room (We're prepping her for surgery…And keeping her for observation), the gang would leave and Michael would leave a stuffed dolphin for her. They would walk out and Jack would kiss her forehead. Angela would mutter soft reassurances to her. They would filter out.

Perhaps because of exhaustion or pain, she could hear the words again. In the voice of her mother.

_I'm sad._

_That's so much better then dead. Or dead inside._

She would try to figure out who was saying them, but instead would be totally silent. She wasn't crazy-she refused to believe that.

As she drifted to sleep, she could feel lips on her forehead and soft breath, hair touching her own.

_I've always been proud of you_

She wouldn't open her eyes, for fear of disturbing the feeling. Instead, she kept the warmth by her all night.


	9. Desperado

**So this is the next chapter! I won't be updating for a while due to the break, but I hope to update one of my stories very soon. Thanks to the support and as always, read and review! I totally don't own Bones. Sadly.**

* * *

_I'm pretty sure she's having this baby to make sure the next generation can feel as stupid as we do._

"Since she's legally an adult, I had no right to tell anyone about what she told me. She wasn't about to harm herself or anyone else, therefore, I had no reason to assume-"

"Not harm herself? Are you LOOKING at her right now?" Angela fumed. "THIS is why Bren hated Psychology. You act like you know the human brain when you don't have half of one yourself!"

"Angela, it's perfectly natural to be angry at someone after all of this has happened-"

"She was talking to you! And you didn't think to let me know?!"

"Again, doctor patient confidentiality. She told me that she wasn't able to sleep without waking up screaming, that she didn't want to wake up most morning. She told me that she was never hungry, that she was experiencing panic attack like symptoms,"

"You. Aren't. Her. Doctor. You were her parents doctor. Not even!" she fumed.

"Christine wouldn't have gone to anyone else, and seeing as how I couldn't very well force her to go or tell you or Hodgins about what she was experiencing, then I tried to help her. I figured you would have noticed the change and brought it up with her. I'm pretty sure she's suffering from depression,"

Angela stared at him and then fell against the wall, covering her face and shaking softly. Sweets knelt down besides her and rubbed her shoulder lightly.

"I didn't mean to blame you. I'm simply saying…"

"When did she have time? And how'd she get to your office?" Angela asked suddenly, realizing that Christine didn't have a car. She'd never seen the need for one.

"I'm assuming she'd force herself to come to my office. Or we'd meet to get breakfast and then go talk. Angela, she was the walking dead when I first talked to her. When she sat down, she curled up on the couch and after our session was done, she didn't want to move. She wanted and, furthermore, needed the help,"

Angela stared at him and then tears started to come into her vision.

"So that's it then. She tried to kill herself…"

Sweets seemed genuinely surprised by this and shook his head.

"No, no, not at all. She's not interested in harming herself. In fact, the demonstration that she put up was anything less then suicidal."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it was rash. It was quick. It wasn't thought through thoroughly enough for her rational mind to have believed that she could accomplish it. It was a measurement of anger and frustration, not of sadness or despair. Like when someone slams their hand into a wall. It wasn't because they want to hurt themselves, it's because they need to let out that anger,"

"You said she could barely get up in the morning,"

"It could have been any number of things. She was going to school and teachers didn't mention anything. She's very good at adapting. Very much like her mother,"

Angela bit her lip.

"That's what worries me."

"Me too," he admitted, and sat against the wall with her.

"Why didn't she just talk to me?"

"I suggested that. But she said that you had too much on your plate, and more so, she'd feel guilty if she bogged you down with it. I tried to reassure her-"

"I would have talked to her!"

"I know. I tried to tell her that. I tried to convince her to talk to someone else, but she said that if I didn't want to do it anymore, she'd deal with it on her own. I wasn't afraid for her life,"

Hodgins came back with three coffees, handing one to Sweets, one to Angela, and taking one for himself. Michael had gone to school to collect assignments and would drive back later.

Christine was in surgery. She hadn't talked to anyone when they came in.

"Any news?"

"No, but that's not normal…Sweets, would you like to explain what you've been discussing with our god daughter to Hodgins?" she asked, and looked at him before shaking her head.

Sweets bit his lip and explained it to Hodgins, who quickly had the man against the wall.

"And you didn't think to TELL us?"

"Dr. Hodgins, don't you think this is a slight over reaction?"

"Christine is currently in surgery. My son is a nervous wreck. My wife is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. No, I definitely don't think this is an overreaction," he snarled, before pushing him further into the wall. The fear on his face was sweet.

_Because if Booth finds out, he'll beat you up._

_Don't you think that would be a slight over reaction?_

_Not at all. So you'd BETTER not do it again, alright?"_

"Dad. Let the little boy go," Michael stated absently, his bag on his back before sitting down.

Michael was shivering, but that hadn't stopped since he'd climbed into the car. About five people had asked what the hell was going on, most of Christine's team had stopped him in the hallways and asked where she was, why did he look so pale and sick, was something wrong?

He went into his bag and dug for a piece of paper to start writing, but he realized that that wasn't going to happen almost immediately. When he put his pen to paper, his shaking didn't stop, and the letters were jagged and misplaced. He closed his eyes and chucked the pen to the ground, groaning.

"Did you call Parker, mom?"

"Yes. Michael, why don't you go home for a while? You're probably exhausted-"

"I can't sleep. So I'm staying here," he stated roughly, but when he saw the hurt in her eyes bent down, picked up the pen and tried to keep his eyes soft.

Angela got up and made her way to her son, who was still shaking, who was staring at the floor, and wrapped her arms around him. Michael shook his head and almost pulled out of her embrace until he felt the tears on his skin which weren't his own.

He couldn't stop shaking, but he looked over to his mom and lifted her chin up a little, trying to look into her eyes.

"Mom…Hey, it's okay. See. I'm fine," he said, trying to grin, though his heart felt erratic with terror and his eyes showed his immense fear. Hodgins knelt next to him and held his shoulders tightly. Michael felt a sudden surge of comfort at this, as though his father, his strong and total father, were taking all of the nervousness from him.

I love her, he thought. Maybe not romantically, maybe romantically, but she's like my sister. I'd die for her. I would kill for her. I would jump into space for her. If the impossible were possible, I would switch places with her. If her heart stops, mine will too.

"Michael…" he offers, and the shaking subsides. Sweets is staring at them, wanting to offer a hand. However, he seems unable to.

"I'm fine, Chrissy's gonna be fine. I just…I need to know that she's okay. Right?" he tries.

"Family of Christine Brennan?" A doctor calls out. Everyone looks up, and they get up. Michael had started shaking again, and the doctor looks at him.

"Is he alright? Does he need to be-"

"I'm fine!" he stated quickly. "Just…Scared is all,"

"Alright. Well, Christine's going to be fine. Surgery went well. But until she denies that she attempted suicide, I'm afraid that we can't let her go. She could pose danger to herself."

"No, no. She didn't," Sweets came up quickly. The doctor looked at him skeptically and sighed.

"It's usual for family-"

"We aren't the usual family. That's uh…That's her shrink. Kind of," Angela tried to explain, but her tongue got tied.

"I'm sorry. You can go and visit if you'd like," he offered.

Well that was a harsh denial.

"How many?"

"Two at the most," he stated. Michael held up his hands and went back to the chairs, where his shaking commenced again.

"Sweets, could you-"

"Oh no. I'm not trusting my kid to this guy," Hodgins butt in quickly, snarling at him. Sweets stared between them.

"Go. Talk to Christine. I won't bother your son. Just make sure he's alright," Sweets stated. Hodgins seemed angry at even this, but Angela pulled on him lightly.

"Let's go, Jack," she said softly.

"You fuck with his head, I'll kill you," Hodgins stated, staring at the shrink.

Sweets had no doubts in his mind that threat was very real.


	10. Gone Away

**_WARNING. This chapter could be TRIGGERING for self harm and or suicide. Also, I want anyone to know that if you are struggling with these things and need to talk, I'M HERE. Please, remember this when going forward._**

**As always, I don't own Bones and reviews are fun. *kisskiss* And I love you all.**

_We were never meant to be this_

_Damned broken…._

_Words were never meant to be this_

_Half spoken…_

_Falling in_

_The space between the universe_

_And all we see…_

_Has gone away_

* * *

"Christine?" the soft questioning tone comes through her door, but she doesn't look up. Instead, she's staring at the wall, her hands wrapped (Not unlike, Jack thinks, another kid I used to know…No, no, don't think of Zack), and IV's attached. Her stare is relatively blank, though a flash of recognition comes through when she recognizes who is there.

Angela sat down next to her, forcing a smile, while Jack stood with his back to the wall, staring. They stayed like this for about twenty minutes. When Christine finally looked over at them, she shook her head.

"I didn't…Want to kill myself…" she stated blankly, and then shrugged. "Just…So tired…And I can't eat…And…Fuck…" she muttered, turning her head so that the two adults wouldn't see her tears. Tears started to fill Angela's eyes as she put a comforting hand on the teenagers shoulder, and Jack made his way back to them before sitting down and grabbing his wife's hand.

"I'm so sorry about what I said, Chrissy…It's just…"

Jack trailed off when Christine shook her head, and gulped in large quantities of air.

"No, no…It's not your fault…" she whimpered, and shook her head. "It wasn't even that, it was…Everything…Dad and mom and…I just…"

And it was then that she let go of everything she'd been too scared to admit.

She couldn't sleep anymore, and whenever she slept, she just…Wanted to sleep. For days on end. Always tired. There were moments, when the sound of the bell would go off and she believed that it was the sound of a gun shot, that she'd cover her ears and wait…She couldn't eat anything because she was never hungry…And she wanted to hurt…

More so, she just wanted to disappear without a trace.

No one to notice that she was gone.

Fuck.

She just lay there, and Angela nodded.

"You should have said something, sweetie…It's okay. When I lost my mom…I felt like you did," she stated, brushing the hair out of her face. Christine looked up and tried to stop the tears from coming.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, sweetie…Roxy called it the 'Depressed artist' before she figured out exactly why I was acting the way I was. And after Roxy left, I felt the same way… If I hadn't…" she trailed off and looked at Jack, who was staring intently, worried eyes. "If I hadn't met your mom…I think I would have been dead in a couple of months…I had no work, I had no one else left in my life…I was alone, sweetie…And I know my situation isn't like yours, but you have to know that we're still here for you, and we love you…And I don't think I can take losing anyone else any time soon,"

Jack had his arm around his wife, and Christine was staring in utter fascination. Or perhaps that wasn't the right word. She was just…Feeling incredibly small, now. And not in the bad way. It was more like the way that a person should feel in the presence of an idol. Someone who deserves respect. She'd never thought of Angela like this, and more so, it had never occurred to her that any of the adults in her life had ever experienced anything or any of the feelings that she had.

In the middle of this moment, however, the sound of someone barging in was heard, and a rather comical looking Parker walked through. Half of his curly hair was combed, he was in pajama pants…He was half shaved!

"Chrissy?" he'd asked quickly, and when he saw the group, held his hands up in defense.

"Sorry…I screw something up here?" he asked, small smile on his face. Everyone looked at him and burst out laughing, and when finally he sat down next to them, he tilted his head, scratching it before a surprised look came upon his face and he smacked it.

"I was in a hurry, okay?!" he snarled, before sitting down and looking between everyone. Rolling his eyes, he took a look at Christines arms and sighed, shaking her head.

"What the hell'd you do, kiddo?"

"Something stupid…" she replied sadly before looking at everyone else. Parker sighed and scratched his neck, looking at the two older adults in the room. When they both looked up in surprise and rushed out, Parker sat down next to her and tilted his head.

"You…Didn't, right? Like, you know…Try to…"

"No," she said suddenly, not wanting to hurt Parker more then he was already hurting. The relief in his eyes was an absolutely horrid thing to see, to think that he'd actually thought that she could…She couldn't imagine what he'd been feeling while he came down here.

"Good," he stated, before scratching his neck once more.

Silence.

"Because, if you did, you know, I'd have to go all big bro on your ass…Intervention and shit…"

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"What you know about it anyways, Parks? Master of faking," she grinned at him, but the dark look on his face made her frown. "What's up, man?"

"You know, they didn't just discharge me because of my knee…" he stated simply, and looked up. She stared at him for a moment until he sighed and stripped off his sweatshirt, displaying his arms for her.

He was tan, a Booth through and through, and when she saw the paleness of scars, Christine suddenly paled herself.

"After…I got back…I lost a lot of buddies. And, you know, life just sucks sometimes…So one night…I just…" he puckered his lips and sighed, shaking his head."I was depressed. And had PTSD. Dad had recognized it before, and tried to get me to get help for it but I just…Couldn't stand the idea of it. So, I…I did it. And when I woke up, Mom and Dad and Bones were there…I didn't think anyone got it, you know, but Bones and Dad and even Mom…They all did. And it's not like I was magically cured or anything, I was on anti depressants for about two years, but…I was helped. I talked to people, people that got it…"

She stared at him as well, suddenly overwhelmed by how much info she was getting in one day, an overload, really. She stared and then shook her head, wanting to ignore him once more. However, she found it nearly impossible.

"What I'm trying to say is…Look, I lost a Dad too…And a Stepmom…And I know what's going on, so please, Christine, just…Talk to me!" he commanded, getting up quickly and forcing her to look into his eyes. When she finally made connection, she flinched.

"I just…I want to feel normal, Parker. I miss them. Is that so bad?"

He stayed silent for a long time and then sat down, burying his head in his hands before he began to silently cry. Christine gritted her teeth and then shook her head, feeling totally done.

How the hell is anyone still doing this?


End file.
